Must Not Snog the Boys
by mad not sad
Summary: When St. Trinian's lets boys in, anarchy is replaced with the laws of flirtation. Romances develop, but is it true love or all part of a larger scheme to take the boys down? And will Flash ever leave Kelly alone? Only one thing is certain: this means war.
1. A Declaration of War

sophisticate **Must Not Snog the Boys**

Chapter 1: A Declaration of War

It seems to be a normal day at St. Trinian's…

The first-years are having shooting practice on the front lawn – their target is Miss Dickinson, the new English teacher, of course. In foreign language class, Miss Maupassant uses the shell-shocked yet ecstatic Bursar as a prop as she teaches the girls how to proposition a man in French. "_Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir_?" intone the girls dutifully. Beverly's jamming out at the front desk, blissfully unaware of the emos, who have skipped class and are now seated in a tight circle on the floor, holding hands and chanting something suspiciously depraved-sounding.

But in a single instant, the relative calm is shattered.

"Anyone seen Kelly?" screeches Tania, dashing through the third-floor corridor at breakneck speed, her twin sister on her tail. The devious ten-year-old duo has just exited the luxurious boudoir of the Posh Totties, where just a few seconds ago, they received some shocking news.

"Kelly! Kelly!" echoes Tara, as St. Trinian's most notorious criminal minds race through the halls, occasionally tripping on their Mary Janes. "Oh, bloody hell, how are we going to find her?" she gasps to her sister.

Tania shrugs wildly, tossing a thin blonde plait over her shoulder. "I don't know, she's got to be around here somewhere…" she pants, but then stops short as the realisation comes to her. "Well…"

"…come to think of it…" Tara continues.

"…who really knows what Kelly does all day, anyway?" Tania finishes their train of thought. "I mean, it's not as if she actually takes classes –"

Both twins burst into raucous laughter at the thought of the unflappable, sophisticated Head Girl actually setting foot in something so foolish and time-wasting as a 'class.' Really, none of the girls at St. Trinian's would bother with the stupid things if their teachers didn't want to ensure that their payroll kept coming in.

"It's gonna be impossible to find Kell until later," Tara remarks. "I'm pretty sure she'll lay low until classes are over."

Tania sighs in envy. "We need to ask her for lessons in evasion and undercover hiding," she says dreamily, as both girls make mental notes to bother their number one idol about her evasive skills later.

"Boy, is she gonna be in for a surprise," Tara says, green eyes wide.

"I know!" Tania says wildly. "This should be an interesting night."

"Well, where to now?" Tara asks mischievously. The twins look at each other as identical wicked grins slowly slide across their seemingly-angelic faces.

"Bomb tests!" they shriek simultaneously, pushing each other out of the way to dabble in their favourite hobby: explosives and heavy artillery.

-----

"Chels," asks Chloe curiously. "Is that a new push-up bra?"

Chelsea Parker glares at her pretty, blonde friend (though, of course, not as blonde and pretty as she is). Chelsea, Chloe, and their best friend Peaches are lounging in their fluffy boudoir, where the twins had been not two minutes ago.

Chloe has the decency to look at least slightly abashed. "Sorry, it's just that I have one like it, but mine's not nearly as lacy, and Rogelio always told me that he liked the lacy ones –"

"Chloe!" Chelsea yells exasperatedly. "Today is THE biggest day of our lives! Well, save for that time we met with JJ French…"

Peaches pipes up helpfully, "…and that time Agent Provocateur released their new thong line!" Chloe nods excitedly, confirming this.

"True," Chelsea nods, smiling over at Peaches. "So today is the THIRD biggest day of our lives, seriously, and all you can think about is whether or not this is a new push-up bra?!" Chloe's eyes widen, hurt. "Which it is," she adds in a conspiratorial undertone, causing Chloe to preen proudly for noticing.

From her chaise lounge in the corner, Peaches nods, agreeing. "Chelsea's right. Honestly, girls, I still can hardly believe the news myself."

"Well, we know that," Chloe giggled. "You only screamed, 'Oh my god, I don't believe you!' about fifty times while you were on the phone with…what was that one's name again?"

Peaches scowls at the most airheaded member of their glamorous coterie. "Aidan," she reminds Chloe, annoyed. "Honestly, Chlo, you could at least remember the name of the boy who told us the absolute BEST NEWS OF OUR LIVES!" At this, all the girls jump up and start bouncing around the room again, much in the same manner that they had when Peaches' former boyfriend, Aidan, had revealed the information to her on her mobile.

"Oh, my God," the three gorgeous girls all mime together. They've just received the news of a lifetime – meaning that their lives will never be the same again, but in an absolutely fab way, of course!

Chloe toasts her ever-present champagne flute with Peaches'. "Yay!" Peaches cries, too excited to even take a drink. "I still can't believe that bo –"

"Shh!" Chelsea squeals, before the raven-haired beauty can finish her sentence. "Don't jinx it. We're not going to breathe a word about…them…again, until we know that the twins have told Kelly."

Peaches nods grimly. "Oh, god, Chels, you're so right. We totally don't want anyone else finding out about this."

"Wait, why not?" Chloe asks, confused, tilting her heavily-made-up head to the side.

Chelsea explains patiently, "Because, silly, we can't let any of those other bitches move in on our territory!"

At this, all three coquettes begin bouncing up and down again in excitement and anticipation. Their sex line can wait – they're much too happy at the moment to even think of business.

-----

Polly looks forbiddingly grim as she rapidly punches the keys on her state-of-the-art laptop. The geeky redhead is seated at her high-tech desk in the dormitory after classes, with her close band of geeks gathered around her, making notes and adjusting various technological instruments. Classes have finished for the day, the stars are twinkling merrily in the dark sky, and some of the other girls in the dorm are seated haphazardly nearby – on the floor, on someone's bed, on the ceiling rafters – you know, the usual spots for repose.

"Harriet, get me the specs on the targets!" Polly barks, inclining her head to the timid girl on her left, but not daring to look, for fear she'd lose focus on the figures she was expeditiously entering in on her keyboard.

"Already done, Poll, they're printing now," murmurs Harriet in hushed tones – she's naturally shy and hates to raise her voice much above a whisper.

"Ugh!" cries Taylor, flicking her matted hair extensions out of her eyes and kicking a tiny first-year seated on the ground below her in frustration. "Why can't you geeks just tell us what's going on?"

Polly rolls her eyes. The chavs, emos, and loads of other cliques had been hounding her for hours about what she and her friends were working on so diligently. The first-years are no help either – the titchy hooligans are throwing balloons filled with sulfuric acid at each other over her head!

"Oi! First-years!" Polly screeches. "Kindly cease and desist, H2SO4 can do serious damage to these computers!"

Lucy, one of the more troublemaking little girls, looks at Polly as if she's crazy. "H2SO4? We don't even know what that is! This is sulfuric acid, dummy!" And the fight continues.

Polly sighs exasperatedly. She turns back to the aggressive and annoyingly persistent chav in front of her. "Taylor, you know I can't divulge any of this confidential info. Strict orders from Kelly."

Pouting, Taylor whines, "Why can't Kelly tell us, too? I mean, I could probably be loads of help!"

Nearby, Andrea snorts. "Oh, please, what could _you_ do – give us fake nails?" Her band of emos chortles appreciatively.

Taylor springs up from her seat on a bed, growling furiously. "Shut it, Morticia, I'd be a way better help than you, at least!" She looks as though she's about to go pummel Andrea, but the other chavs hold her back, with no small effort.

"Shut it, girls!" comes a clear voice. All of St. Trinian's finest turn their heads to a bed shoved in the corner, where a lone figure dressed in a white nightdress rises and slowly makes its way toward them.

Annabelle Fritton comes into view, shaking her wild brunette curls out of her eyes. She had been new to St. Trinian's only a few weeks ago, but after her role in the successful Heist the girls had pulled off recently in order to save their beloved school from bankruptcy, Annabelle had become well-respected among her classmates.

Annabelle takes a deep breath. "Okay, I don't really know what's going on, but obviously we're in the middle of a crisis situation. Look at the geeks," she gestures at Polly and co. "Kelly's got them working overtime, even for them, and they do homework for nineteen hours every day." At this, Polly, Harriet, and their chums nodded furiously. "Clearly, something very big is happening."

"You're sooo right, Annabelle!" trills Chloe as the alluring Posh Totties flounce their way into the dorms, clearly returning from their private boudoir. Her two cohorts are madly giggling behind her, with Peaches looking over Chelsea's shoulder as she texts on her mobile.

Annabelle looks slightly shocked to be told that she's right for once. "I…I am?" she questions, dazed. She's still getting used to her new status as one of St. Trinian's It Girls.

"Totally!" responds Chloe. "Something really, hugely big is happening!"

At this, Chelsea and Peaches look up, finally registering that there is an intense conversation taking place in the room. "Chlo," Chelsea warns, "be careful."

"I know, I know," Chloe wags her hand at her best friend. "I won't say anything."

Taylor jumps up once again, visibly affronted. "Bloody hell! How do even the Totties know about this before us?!"

For once, Andrea can agree with her enemy. "Really, I mean, Peaches once asked me how to spell the word 'peach.'"

Every single girl, aged ten to seventeen, whips her head around to look at Peaches, amazed.

"What?" giggles Peaches. "I wanted to order Topshop's new peach-scented perfume!"

Andrea and Polly simply shake their heads. Some girls will never get a clue.

All of a sudden, the lights in the room dim and heart-pumping music begins to softly play. The gaggle of girls scattered around the large dormitory shiver in anticipation, as they gather nearer to Polly's desk.

Two identical, tiny shadows appear in the doorway, and then Tara and Tania are sauntering in, decked out in identical midnight black suits and sunglasses. Directly behind her pair of midget bodyguards comes the one, the only, the great Kelly Jones, St. Trinian's renowned Head Girl.

A hush falls over the room, all of the normally rambunctious girls struck silent, as they always are, by the presence of their formidable leader. With the blonde twins sauntering purposefully in front of her, Kelly glides to the front of the room, her pencil-skirt-clad hips swaying confidently and leaving speechless younger girls in her wake.

"Girls," Kelly utters in a low voice. She doesn't need to speak loudly – everyone is always listening to her, no matter what. She is always captivating, the centre of attention.

Signalling to Tara and Tania, who walk over to Polly and consult with her in hushed tones, Kelly continues her speech from her bloodred lips. "As you've all gathered, something major is about to happen at St. Trinian's." The girls seated before her all nod to each other, excited that they're finally going to learn what is transpiring. Kelly continues. "Our lives are all about to change."

The girls of St. Trinian's turn to their friends in suspense, tittering loudly, speculating on what could possibly be the big news. They're silenced when Kelly lets out a whistle.

"As I was saying," she says, looking at her audience reproachfully, and it's admirable how she can invoke the same ashamed look on so many different faces simultaneously. "Our lives are all about to change…but not in a good way."

Taylor lets out an anticipatory groan. "But what _is_ it? Why can't someone just spill the beans already! We're all dying here, Kell."

"Well, we know," Chelsea brags, smoothing her luscious curls and sharing a sly grin with Peaches and Chloe.

The twins shove their chins up in the air. "Us too!" they say together.

The geeks are nodding over in the corner. Taylor and the rest of the chavs groan. "Well, someone tell us already!"

Kelly clears her throat. "I have to warn you, girls, this is probably worse than you can even imagine." All of the students lean forward, their mouths open in suspense.

"St. Trinian's is opening its doors to boys."

There is a long pause, and then a cacophony so loud that it wouldn't even be noticeable if the twins had set off one of their hydrogen bombs. Emos are hugging geeks, chavs are jumping up and down hand-in-hand with trustafarians, and all of the girls are screaming and shouting jubilantly at the tops of their lungs.

"Oi!" Kelly shouts. The girls immediately quiet down, although most retain their elated grins. Chelsea, Peaches, and Chloe are doing some sort of celebratory provocative dance in the corner, but they stop once Kelly glances sharply at them.

"This is nothing to celebrate!" Kelly continues severely. "Don't you all realise what St. Trinian's becoming a mixed school means? These boys are going to absolutely take over!"

Most of the girls still look confused, so she tries to put the news into terms they can understand. "Chavs, you like being able to trudge around here in those…er…extremely _bright_ tracksuits, don't you?" Taylor and her friends nod in affirmation. "Well, you're going to have to be spending hours more time each morning getting ready and finding sexier clothes – and you thought three hours getting your hair extensions in and painting your nails each day was long!" The chavs look suitably crushed.

"Geeks, you know you're uncontestedly the smartest bunch in the school, right?" They smirk, knowing that what Kelly says is true. "Well, these boys are going to waltz in here and push you out of your top spots! Polly, you're top in maths?" Polly nods, confirming this fact. "Not anymore – you're going to have some unforeseen competition, and trust me, they're going to be ruthless."

Kelly continues her tirade. "Tania, Tara, you girls like being co-presidents of the Modern Weaponry Association, don't you?" The twins nod excitedly. "You really think the blokes will let two ten-year-old girls run the weapons club? You'll be booted out faster than you can say, 'Freudian phallic complex.'" The twins look gutted.

Kelly's speaking to all of the girls now. "Every single one of you is going to be affected in a negative way by the arrival of Havisham School for Boys. Right now, our days are perfect – we're in charge, and all the staff knows it. These boys are going to take our power, tear friendships apart, and you're going to be regretting this day loads in a week or so."

By this point, all of the girls, save for the Posh Totties, look suitably gutted.

Annabelle speaks up. "But Kelly, why are there boys coming, anyway?"

Kelly purses her lipsticked lips. "One of Miss Fritton's former suitors – a Leopald Havisham – is the Headmaster of Havisham School. Apparently, St. Trinian's hasn't been the only boarding school having financial difficulties as of late. But unlike us, the Havisham boys are evidently complete idiots – _they_ didn't pull off a word-class heist, steal a priceless painting, pull a complex switch, and save their school from foreclosure!" At the mention of The Heist, all of the girls cheer. They are still basking in the glory of their formidable accomplishment.

"So now their school is closing, and of course, Miss Fritton is too nice to say no to an old beau. I just don't think she realises yet how much trouble these boys are bound to cause!"

Chelsea looks confused (not an unusual occurrence). "But Kelly, I think having the boys here will be fun! Now we can have boyfriends in every class, not just slip away on the weekends to see them or sneak them in here at night!" Peaches and Chloe, along with the younger girls who fancy themselves Posh Totties-in-training, let out a chorus of affirmations.

Annabelle turns to the gorgeous coterie in the corner. "Just like you said, Chelsea, you girls find a way to see boys practically every day anyway. We don't need them actually going here to have boyfriends. What Kelly means is that St. Trinian's right now is one of the only places in the world where girls reign supreme – with the boys here, the patriarchal establishment will take over once again." She takes a deep breath, then her cheeks flood with the embarrassment of realising she has just practically yelled in front of the entire dormitory and given a rousing oration. "Erm, right?"

Smiling proudly, Kelly nods. "Right. Nicely said, Fritton." Annabelle grins, relieved. Kelly turns to the rest of the girls.

"This isn't about boyfriends and snogging," Kelly proclaims. "This is about pride, dignity, and a defence of anarchy."

Tania and Tara look up at their mentor. "So," Tania starts.

"In other words," Tara continues.

"This means war?" the two twins ask hopefully, evil grins beginning to develop on their phonily-cherubic faces.

Kelly smirks. "Too right." She signals to Polly and the geeks to continue their battle preparations. "We're going to make these boys wish they'd never been born."

-----

**A/N: Just a little idea I cooked up today. Be darlings and review, won't you? It's a chain reaction – you review, I update! Thank you for reading!**


	2. The Testosterone Invasion

sophisticate

Must Not Snog the Boys

**Chapter 2: The Testosterone Invasion**

"Code blue! Code blue!" Tara and Tania run through the halls, shouting the alert at the top of their tiny lungs.

The day has finally arrived: Havisham School for Boys is coming to St. Trinian's. Estimated time of arrival: T-minus negative 1 minute.

In other words, the boys have arrived.

"Yo, Bev!" hollers Tania, leaping up onto the receptionist's desk and throwing a stapler at the gossip mag-fixated woman. "A little attention here?"

Beverly jolts into action. "Hey, T, other T, sorry 'bout that." She pops her gum loudly. "Did I hear something about a Code Blue?"

Tara and Tania roll their eyes at each other, exasperated. Sometimes it seems as though they, the two youngest pupils, are the only intelligent ones in the entire school.

"Uh, yeah," Tara replies sarcastically. "And that means –"

" – that everyone had better –" Tania continued.

" – get to their stations!" finished Tara

Beverly was nodding dumbly, a frantic look coming into her eyes. It was finally happening – the day that all of St. Trinian's had been training for during the past month was here. There was so much to do…fingers crossed, all would go according to plan – but with a complicated plan like this, their fingers had to be crossed _extremely_ tightly.

Tara glares at Beverly. "Like, now!" she bellows.

"Oh, right, right," Beverly responds. Picking up the rarely-used telly, Beverly punches in some numbers. "Hey, Polly?" Pause. "The twins have just notified me." Pause. "Yep, it's a Code Blue. Everyone to their stations." Pause. "Yep, got it." Hang up. Beverly looks over at the blonde demons, grinning. "Operation Overlady is a go, girls," she gushes.

Tania and Tara nod in a businesslike manner. "Excellent," they reply in sync. Then they dash off to wreak havoc elsewhere. Only this time, all of the girls are banded together – havoc will be wrought, and boys will be taught…not to mess with the girls of St. Trinian's.

-----

The weather-beaten, mint-green bus clatters down the St. Trinian's drive. In a disconcerting departure from past traditions, no paintballs are splattered on the windows. No shrunken heads sway tauntingly from the trees. No Amazonian schoolgirls burst forth shrieking from the woods. The Havisham bus' arrival at the usually-hectic School for Girls is eerily quiet. Almost…normal.

The bus pulls to a stop in front of the school. As if they were posing for a postcard, the entire faculty and student body of St. Trinian's is assembled out front of the school, picture-perfect in their re-sewn and ironed uniforms. For once, no one is injuring anyone else, and the typically bloodthirsty girls are acting like perfect little angels.

From her spot in the very centre of the charade, Kelly Jones is biting back a smirk. As usual, her plan has unfolded flawlessly.

As the bus' doors creak open, their illustrious Headmistress, the venerable Miss Camilla Fritton gracefully glides forward. The first male figure to step off the bus is none other than her suitor from years past, Leopold Havisham.

"Milly!" shouts the ruddy-cheeked Leopold jovially. He may have gotten a bit rounder around the middle than he had been since Camilla last saw him, but he still had that same devilish spark in his eyes.

"Leo!" sing-songs Camilla, and the two run forward and embrace each other like the old friends they are.

"So good of you to let my boys and I stay at yours, Milly dear. I really don't know how to thank you," Leopold fusses, gesturing dramatically.

Camilla shakes her head, waving off his preposterous notion easily. "Oh, hush, Leo! Not a word of it! We couldn't be more happy to have you." She turns to the gaggle of fresh-faced (well, sort of) schoolgirls behind her. "Right, girls?"

"Yes, Miss Fritton," they chorus back dutifully, under Kelly's watchful eyes. They have been carefully instructed to act absolutely angelically, and thus far, all of St. Trinian's finest have been performing quite nicely.

"Wonderful!" booms Leopold. "Well, the boys have all been so anxious to meet all of you. I guess we'd better not keep them waiting any longer, eh?"

The girls all giggle modestly, the picture of purity and naivete. Oh, if he only knew . . .

He moves away from the doorway of the green bus and calls up, "All right, then, boys! You can come out now! Behave yourselves!"

Almost immediately, the girls of St. Trinian's jump collectively as an uproar like none they have ever heard shakes the very ground upon which they stand. The old green bus looks as though it's about to explode, as a raucous flock of very tall, very muscular, very boyish boys comes pouring out, yelling and shouting in a flurry of noise and motion.

The girls' eyes grow wide, for multiple reasons: A) They're the epitome of misbehaviour, but even so, they've never seen _anything_ so wild as the Havisham crew before; and B) These obnoxious ruffians, their sworn rivals have actually turned out to be…dare they think it…_incredibly and shockingly FIT_.

"Cor," breathes Taylor under her breath, her face breaking out into a light sweat as she takes in the gorgeous specimens of malehood assembled riotously in front of her.

Even the Posh Totties, in their spot hidden behind their schoolmates in the back, are a little shaken, and they, at least, have certainly had quite a number of experiences with the opposite sex. In fact, Chelsea can't be quite tear her eyes away from the good-looking newcomers long enough to be sure, but she thinks that Chloe has just fainted beside her.

Peaches dives to the ground to attempt to make her platinum-blonde friend's fall. "Chlo!" shrieks Peaches. "Are you all right?!"

Well, Chelsea thinks, that's that, then. She absent-mindedly reaches out to help Peaches support Chloe, but her hazel eyes are locked with a particularly fit boy's steely blue gaze.

"Boys!" shouts Leopold, clearly repressing a grin at his pupils' antics. "All right, then, that's enough! Boys! Boys!" Finally, the rowdy Havisham boys quiet down.

With a nod from Miss Fritton, Kelly steps forward, obviously mesmerizing the energetic adolescent boys before her with her dark red lips and rhythmically-swaying hips.

"Hello boys," Kelly says, in her patented cool-as-a-cucumber way, and instantly, scores of boys have fallen in love with the unflappable Kelly Jones.

"Welcome to St. Trinian's," Kelly continues. "I'm Kelly Jones, Head Girl." She always loves saying this and watching people's reactions – no one expects a girl who looks like _this_ to be Head Girl. These boys, though, don't react quite as expected – they all look delighted at the prospect of such a fit Head Girl, sure, but they're not exactly shocked. Kelly, for a moment, worries that this crowd of blokes may not be quite what she had bargained for, but she quickly pushes that thought out of her head.

"We St. Trinian's girls are proud to welcome Havisham to our school," Kelly says, forging ahead with her little welcoming speech. "And we will be more than happy to assist you – in _any_ way you wish." Kelly licks her lips suggestively at this carefully contrived moment, and gleefully observes as fifty boys go weak at the knees.

With a quiet, "Ahem," from Kelly, the crowd of "angelic" St. Trinian's girls parts down the middle, revealing, in all their glory, the Posh Totties, who had been hidden behind the rest of the girls in the back. Unlike the rest of the girls, who are all, for the first time in probably forever, wearing their uniforms neatly-pressed and appropriately, the Posh Totties look as they usually do. In fact, the glamorous clique looks even more slaggish than is the norm for the professional "call" girls.

Chloe is clad in what is ostensibly the proper school uniform – if it were shrunken three times in the dryer. (The tiny vest and skirt she is wearing actually belong to Tara.) Peaches is wearing a pleated micro-mini and a pair of suspenders – she has conveniently "forgotten" to put on a blouse. And in between them, in all of her wild-blonde-curls glory, Chelsea struts forward in a silk teddy, dyed in the St. Trinian's school colours, and a pair of fishnets. The gorgeous trio walks in perfect sync, swinging their hips and shaking their hair.

The Havisham boys' mouths drop open, sending the other St. Trinian's girls into raucous laughter. What fun – acting like innocent little schoolgirls so that the boys could act all manly and macho, only to turn the tables on them by making all of their wildest adolescent fantasies come true.

The Posh Totties continue sauntering forward, basking in the male attention they had so craved in the past. The boys remain shell-shocked, their adorable faces looking hilariously baffled. Leopold is chuckling, not at all offended by the girls' little trick. After all, Leopold Havisham has always enjoyed a good time.

"Bloody hell!" shouts one of the boys, the first to recover from his trance. "We'd _well_ do these slags!" His outburst is met with a roar of approval from his schoolmates, many of the boys reaching out to pat the brash newcomer on the back.

Kelly grinds her teeth together in irritation. She'd known, of course, that these boys would be like all others: utter male chauvinist pigs. Of course, their typical antifeminist behaviour hadn't offended the Posh Totties in the least, but some of the other girls, like Polly and Annabelle, are visibly bristling. With a warning glare from Kelly, though, the feminists of St. Trinian's paste a flirtatious smirk onto their faces. As much as the sexist, cocky boys may annoy the girls, they have stick to the plan.

Chelsea sends one last wink toward the blue-eyed boy she had been eyeing earlier, then the Posh Totties turn on their heels and flounce away toward the school.

"All right, boys, the first-years will show you to your dormitory," Camilla calls excitedly. How she loves new blood!

Tara and Tania whistle with two fingers, and bellow, "Follow us! This way, blokes!" The preppy boys retrieve their luggage from underneath the bus and begin to trail after the rambunctious first-years and their leaders, the twins.

Camilla takes Leopold's arm and leads him into her office, so that they can catch up. Neither can believe how many years it's been since they've last seen each other!

At last, once most of the now co-ed students have entered the building, there are only a few stragglers left behind outside. Kelly has to physically pull a flirtatious Taylor and Bianca away from a group of boys.

"Like my hair extensions, sexy?" Taylor calls, and Kelly wallops her over the head. "Ow!"

"It's for your own good," Kelly hisses.

Taylor pouts. "But I thought you told us to flirt with them."

Exasperated, Kelly replies, "Yes, but there's such a thing as over-the-top. Besides, I think you're having a little _too_ much fun with the plan."

Taylor shifts guiltily.

"All right, get inside," Kelly says, and Taylor and Bianca dash inside the building.

All of a sudden, Kelly's attention is caught by a commotion to her left. She can't be seeing this right…_Celia_, of all people, is surrounded by a group of boys!

"Cee?" Kelly asks confusedly.

Celia looks at her saviour, a plea for help in her wide grey eyes. "Kelly!" She reaches out and unceremoniously tugs the confused Head Girl over to her side. The crowd of uber-preppy-looking boys grins appreciatively. Resigned, Celia gestures to a smirking boy with wild blond curls in front of her. "This is my brother, Ricky. Ricky, this is Kelly. I've known her since Year 7."

Kelly appraises Ricky coolly. It's certainly evident that he and Celia are siblings – both have the same grey eyes, wild blond locks, and round face. But Ricky, unlike Celia, seems to have embraced his wealthy heritage. His uniform is neatly-pressed and his luggage is of the finest leather.

Ricky holds his hand out for Kelly to shake. "Richard Castleby-Locke III," he enunciates smoothly, smirking patronisingly. "What a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Pleasure," Kelly responds sarcastically, but the cocky rich boy is too caught up in himself to catch the sarcasm. Ricky ruffles his hair self-importantly.

A brown-haired boy standing next to Ricky reaches out and ruffles Celia's hair. "Aw, isn't the little sis glad to see big bro's best friend?"

Disgusted, Celia wriggles her way out of the boy's grasp. Her brother and his friends are typical rich brats, and Celia has always clashed with them. "Ew, get away from me, Miles," she yells.

Miles Eccleston-Rowe laughs delightedly. He has always loved riling his best friend Ricky's rebellious little sister up. "I see you've actually combed your hair, Celia Wanna Feel-ya Up. That's certainly a change."

"Ugh," Celia grumbles. "Come, Kelly, let's go. These idiots have probably got to go plan their Parliament campaign."

Kelly and Celia head back into the school. Or, rather, Celia pulls Kelly along at a breakneck speed.

"Whoa, Cee, slow it down," Kelly laughs. "Where's the fire?"

Celia shakes her head. "I just can't stand Ricky, or his stupid friends like Miles. Ugh, they're so patriarchal and conservative, it makes me want to throw up."

"Well," Kelly grins, "then it's a good thing the plan is working, right?"

At this, Celia relaxes happily. "Too true."

As the two budding feminists stroll into the school building, Annabelle is left alone outside, making sure that the last of the boys gets inside. Suddenly, a devastatingly attractive boy ambles up to Annabelle; he is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, and Annabelle forgets to breathe for a second.

"Hello there," the gorgeous boy drawls in his low voice, and Annabelle shivers. She can't remember how long it's been since she's actually spoken to a boy her own age, let alone a handsome one like this.

Annabelle has never felt more out of her element, but she desperately wants to please Kelly and keep with the Plan. So she steels herself and puts on her best flirtatious pout, attempting what she thinks might be something akin to a come-hither look toward the stranger. "Er, hello?" Annabelle replies, and immediately hates herself for sounding like a ten-year-old. "I mean, hello to you, too," she tries again, deliberately lowering her voice an octave_. Oh, wonderful, now I sound like a middle-aged chain smoker_, she thinks to herself.

The good-looking boy chuckles, running his hand easily through his dark, wavy hair. "What's your name, princess?"

Annabelle flushes scarlet. Is this incredibly fit boy flirting with her? She desperately wishes that Kelly were here to tell her what to do. "An – Annabelle," she stutters.

"Good to meet you, Annabelle," he says smoothly. "I'm Mac."

Annabelle nods, momentarily speechless. She forces herself to reply. "Mac…like a Big Mac?" _What? Oh god, why am I such a ninny? _She giggles pathetically at her own stupidity.

Mac raises his eyebrows coolly. "Sure. Anyway, Annie – can I call you Annie?" Annabelle is so flustered that she can only nod dumbly. "So, Annie, what's the St. Trinian's policy on student relationships?"

Annabelle's eyes practically bug out of her head. "Um…er…pardon?"

"You know, students dating? I guess it'll have to be a new policy, since you probably didn't have this issue before, being all-girls." Mac pauses for a moment. "Or, well, maybe you did, who knows? But now that we're co-ed, student relationships are all good, right?"

"Uh…" Annabelle replies, gaping. Is this really happening? Is Mac, this gorgeous specimen of malehood, _asking her out_?

Sensing her discomfort, Mac laughs. "Hey, Annie, don't sweat it. Did you think I was talking about you?" He shakes his head, chuckling.

Annabelle blushes furiously.

"No, no, chill, I just wanna know the name of that sexy blonde bird from before. You know, the tall one with the long hair? In that little silk number?"

Before he has even finished speaking, Annabelle knows he's talking about Chelsea. She isn't surprised, really – what boy wouldn't like Chelsea Parker?

"Oh, um, yeah," Annabelle responds, ducking her head so he won't see her mortification. "That's Chelsea. Chelsea Parker, she's in the Lower Sixth."

Mac grins salaciously. "Excellent," he breathes. "Well, it was a pleasure, Annie," he remarks, and charismatically tilts her chin upward with his hand.

Annabelle is scorching from the contact, but Mac waltzes away like he unwittingly seduces young, innocent girls and then deserts them as a daily event. _Which_, Annabelle thinks_, he probably does_.

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A/N: Thank you for your patience! Love to all of my reviewers and please continue to leave reviews – feedback always encourages me. So, how do you like St. T's new testosterone-y inhabitants?


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